Head in the Cold
by Storybookwriter
Summary: Seung Gil is not acting himself. Phichit notices.


It was hot; even after Seung-Gil turned down the heat of his hotel room completely, it was still too hot. He payed little heed to it, choosing instead to dismiss it as a testimony that he was training hard. Encouraged by this interpretation, he continued to set the clock at five am to commence the daily regiment his coach had set our for him.

The competition he was to participate in, though not in the same caliber as the Grand Prix Final, was held in enough esteem to attract skaters from across the globe. In fact, checking in a week ago, he had caught sight of past Grand Prix competitors and opponents. But because it wasn't the Grand Prix final, media coverage was slim and Seung Gil found himself blessed with a limited number of interviews and paparazzi shots; both he found that he could stand to live a little less of.

Down in the hotel lobby, there was an unexpected amount of activity than Seung-Gil had originally anticipated. Though now that he really thought about, he probably shouldn't have been as shocked as he was. Five in the morning was the universal time for morning people and serious athletes and a time where "normal" people couldn't find themselves waking up daily. So, if a "normal person" found themselves in a situation where they were outside at five in the morning, they would become aquatinted with the morning people community and of athletes (such as himself). This hotel in particular was only a short walk from the rinks where the skaters would be practicing and competing against one another. Most, if not all of the skaters were booked to stay at this hotel.

A motley of languages filled his ears as competitors on better terms with one another, recognized one another and exchanged greetings in a language that they shared. Pleasantries and jokes were exchanged and slipped through workers and people alike before he could be recognized.

Two sets of automatic doors slid open as they sensed his presence and winter air was blasted into his face. The wind brushed against his face and played with his hair. The coolness that contrasted with the heat that had settled into his face (something that Seung-Gil blamed on the stress) was welcomed and make him feel normal and well again.

His jog, a warm-up for the actual practice left him unusually winded. He could only recall feeling like this when he first began to pursue figure skating professionally and getting himself into shape. That was a long time ago. He rested his hand at the base of his neck, taking in slow, large gulps of air. The air seemed to have gotten stuck in his lungs and coughed as he exhaled.

His phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket and reached to the back of his pant pocket to find a green textbook with a message written in Hanguel, telling him to eat a to eat a substantial breakfast before meeting her at the rink. He murmured something about her acting more like a mom than a coach under his breath before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

It was six-thirty at the moment and Seung-Gil was back at the hotel to investigate the food that the complimentary breakfast had offered. Nothing appeared to be remotely appetizing and Seung-Gil spent the time wandering back and forth, wishing that the Western food on display was his Korean comfort food. His eyes travelled until they rested on a shelf protein bars. That would do. He snatched a few and grabbed a bottle of orange juice on from the mini-fridge.

"Hmmm? Is that all you're eating?"

Seung-Gil's head snapped around. A boy with dark skin and black was staring curiously at the bars and orange juice. He himself, had some eggs, a bowl of fruit and other foods that would be considered "healthy". He was familiar and Seung-Gil could recall his face from the Grand Prix He ignored the question and shoved them unceremoniously into the pockets of his jacket.

"You're not even going to eat that? It's good for an athlete to eat a big breakfast."

Seung-Gil had hoped that his man would stop talking, but he kept babbling on about the five main food groups and that he was going to end up making himself ill if he didn't feed his body properly.

"It's not your business of what I put into my body for food."

The dark-skinned man shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah. You're probably right. Still doesn't mean you shouldn't eat more. This tournament won't be fun if you pass out in the middle of your performance."

Even Seung Gil couldn't hide the expression of incredulity from his features.

 _Who exactly was this man?!_

Seung-Gil twisted the cap off of the bottle of orange juice and took a small sip, leaving that man and his standing alone in the dining room.

Even before he left the hotel to start towards the rink, he felt the temperature drop. What was at first a pleasurable feeling of the coolness he had longed for quickly turned into a discomfort that matched the heat. The once relished cold of the winter, was now slipping through his jacket and the cold slipped through his skin and wrapped its icy fingers around his bones. He squeezed into himself, hoping he didn't appear to be shaking as much as he thought he was.

Min-Soo was waiting for him in the rink lobby and he immediately caught her eye. He seemed to be pale, she'd told him and he disregarded her comment, instead choosing to manipulate the conversation away from his appearance and towards what they would be focusing on in today's practice.

Jumps and landings with raised arms, she replied, not finding his paleness a cause of alarm. Instead of having one's arms level, to land with one's arms elevated increased the level of difficulty and therefore give him more points to ensure his victory.

Different rinks were spread out amongst each other. On some of these rinks, some skaters were well into their practice. Seung-Gil watched as some coaches praised their students on smooth landings, while others had launched themselves into the air in the wrong way that had resulted in a shaky landing or a fall altogether. Seung-Gil seemed to be doing more of the latter than the former. The triple salchows left him dizzy and disoriented. Even jumps that he normally landed with ease had questionable stability today.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Min Soo shouted when Seung Gil's knee touched down on the ice after losing his balance from an attempt at a triple toe-loop. Seung Gil skidded to a stop before skating towards the bench.

"What is wrong with you today?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied in the monotonous voice he was known for. He shoved down a few coughs that were almost forced up his throat.

"Oh you know exactly what I'm talking about! Your jumps and lands have been unbelievably sloppy! How do you expect to find yourself eligible for the Grand Prix with executions like that?!"

In the midst of Min Soo's rant, a strange occurrence came about. His coach's words began to merge, making any recognition of them impossible. For the first time, he had actually made an attempt to listen to Min Soo.

"Lee Seung Gil!"

He blinked several times and shook his head.

"What?"

"Were you listening to a single word I said?"

She exhaled sharply and pressed the palm of her hand to her brow, with no actual desire for a reply from him.

"Let's stop for today. It's obvious that you're out of sorts. Go back to the hotel and rest. The _rea_ l training will start tomorrow."

"What? No! I can do this!" He exclaimed, exhibiting more emotion than he would normally care for.

"Seung Gil." Her tone had suddenly turned sharp. "This conversation is over."

Glaring at her retreating figure, he turned and skated back to the centre of the rink. He was gong to complete these jumps and he was going to complete them perfectly.

"Seung Gil, what are you doing?! Get off the ice!"

Min Soo stood at the little opening in the rink board as Seung Gil commenced his program. In the midst of the graceful way he moved his arms and the little tails used to entice the audience to being completely consumed by his performance, Min Soo's shouting became all the louder, telling him not to do anything rash and to get off the ice.

A triple toe-loop was coming up. Deafening himself to his coach as the rotations became quicker and quicker, finally using the blade of his skate to flung himself into the air—where he he came to an abrupt and painful landing on his shoulder. He rolled on his back, stunned. He was unaware of the ice against his skin or the throb in his shoulder. That is, until he felt thin fingers comb through his air.

Almost as soon as Seung Gil had struck the ice, Min Soo was on the rink, making her way towards him in long, quick and careful strides. She had immediately dropped to the worst conclusion of a concussion or a broken bone, but had relaxed when she felt no bumps nor saw any form of swelling on his joints. He may have escaped serious injury, but the lingering tenderness in his shoulder promised a colourful bruise.

Seung Gil regained his sense of balance as he pushed himself up, wiping snow from himself.

"If you ever do something like that again, I will personally drag you back to Seoul. Are we clear?"

No reply from Seung Gil was worded.

In the end, Seung Gil found himself wandering back to the hotel. The heat was back again, crawling up his neck and settling into his cheeks. Breathing became progressively difficult as every time he inhaled he felt his lungs contract in his chest and several coughs would be released. Even when he in the hotel and no longer breathing in the cold air he continued to cough.

At this particular moment, he was on his bed, rubbing his chest as he could feel another series of coughs building up inside of him. Clasping a hand over his mouth, he allowed the coughs to escape, though as silently as he could make them up. A warm, thick fluid flooded his mouth. Pulling himself out of the bed, he crossed to the bathroom, snatching a few squares of toilet paper and spitting the fluid into them. He took a few more cautious breaths before trudging back to bed. His stomach was growling and he rested his hand on it. What time was it….? He stretched his head towards the digital alarm clock.

6:25.

 _Might as well go and get something to eat._

His stomach growled as if clarifying the though. Shrugging his his jacket on and slipping on his sneaker, he wandered back down to the lobby. Just like that morning, it was rather crowded, but less from the competing skaters and more from the families that were checking in that evening. Over in the corner, skaters were chattering away eagerly in English. Though Seung Gil himself couldn't consider himself fluent in the language, he heard the mentions of dinner or a drink. Their eyes had alighted upon him and the invitation was extended to him. Seung Gil had sensed that it was more out of formality than of actual desire to have him come along. It didn't matter; no matter their intent, he would still end up refusing their invitation. He overheard someone mutter something about him being cold and unfriendly followed a few affirmations. Whatever. He came to win, not to make fiends.

He found himself at a quaint little restaurant nearby, not nearly as loud. Though his stomach complained, he wasn't feeling remotely hungry. Even the protein bars he had originally planned to eat, were still in his jacket pocket. He had forgotten about them. He still decided that he most certainly had to eat something. The simple soup-of-the-day would do and he was quick to eat and pay for his meal. Despite spending the better part of the day idly flipping through foreign channels on a foreign television in a foreign room, the exhaustion of the day had still not left him. Seung Gil resolved than an early bedtime was the cure.

At exactly 2:04 a.m Seung Gil was pulled into consciousness, though for what reason. As he adjusted himself, his stomach suddenly flipped. Clapping both hands over his mouth, he latched himself out of bed and into the bathroom, throwing himself over the toilet bowl just as the little bit of food he had consumed at dinner erupted out of his mouth and into the toilet. He heaved again and more of the half-digest food was forced out. Stray tears were rolling down his cheeks as well snot began to dribble over his upper lip. He heaved a new more times and some bile was forced out until, eventually, there was nothing left to vomit and he allowed himself to curl up on the bathroom floor, clutching his stomach. The tiles were cool against his face and he pulled his arm across his nose, with the taste of acid stinging his tongue.

He couldn't recall how, but he had managed to pull himself off of the floor and turn on the taps to rinse out his mouth. With an arm braced around his stomach, stumbled back to bed, and curling into the tightest ball he could imagine, he closed his eyes in hopes of driving back into sleep.

There was no sweet embrace of sleep. For the rest of the night, he muffled his coughs into the pillow and throwing himself back and forth on the bed, praying to whatever God was out there that he could somehow fling himself into a comfortable sleeping position. And suddenly, the alarm clock sounded. He groped for the alarm clock. He felt like crap in the middle of the night when he was vomiting, he felt like complete and absolute shit this morning. Not doing anything remotely physical still left his limbs feeling unusually sore and heavy, making the process of getting out of bed more awkward than he would've cared to admit. Figure-skaters were known for their amazing sense of balance, but all of that seemed to have disappeared. He felt himself lurch from side-to-side as he crossed to the bathroom, using the wall to support.

His was engulfed by a thick fog of exhaustion and heat and somehow, had completed his morning routine with little to no issues (alright, he almost pass out in the shower but that was beside the point).

Down in the lobby, Phichit was stretching in the corner stretching while munching on a protein bar. He heard the elevator ding and the electronic doors slid open. Even from this difference Phichit could make out the outline of Seung Gil in the distance. Recalling their previous encounter, he rolled his eyes and was about to rest his eyes back in front of him when something…unnatural caught his attention. Seung Gil didn't briskly walk out of the lobby, but, rather seemed to be taking his time, leaning against the wall.

Something wasn't right.

Straightening himself, he slowly approached Seung Gil against the wall. The latter was obviously flushed, wet pieces of hair clinging to his face. Even breathing seemed like a laborious task.

"Hey, hey." Phichit rested his hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?'

 _Of course he isn't!_ Phichit mentally slapped himself. _He's about to fall over!_

"Seung Gil." His other hand rested on the shoulder agains the wall and directed Seung Gil to face him.

"W-what ar-re you doing?"

"Trying to keep you from dropping dead in the middle of the hotel lobby. You look like death."

"I'm fine." He slurred stumbling into Phichit.

 _Right._

"Why don't you go lay down for a bit?"

"No…have training…."

Seung Gil's eyes drooped shut and Phichit lightly tapped his cheek.

"Don't fall asleep on me. I can't carry you."

Phichit tightened his grip on Seung Gil's shoulders and braced him against his side.

"Geez you're burning up! How are you even still walking?!"

He took Seung Gil's arm and wrapped it around his neck while the other one braced around his waist for support.

"Look, I may not be a doctor but I _really_ think you should go lie down. Come on. I'll help you."

Seung Gil's only response was a deep cough.

"Hey….do you know where your room is at."

Seung Gil brought a hand to his head.

"I-I…"

"Is it on the second floor? The third floor? The fourth?"

Another series of coughs and Phichit readjusted Seung Gil.

"Do you have a wallet with you?"

No. There was no bulge in any of his pockets to indicate a wallet of any kind or even a phone.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Seung Gil's full weight suddenly slumped against him, almost throwing him completely off balance.

"Nononononononononono! Seung Gil, I can't carry you! Come on! Wake up!"

His head fell on his shoulder, brows furrowed, beads of sweat rolling down his face

 _How do I get myself into these situations?_

Ducking a bit, he used gravity to help adjust Seung Gil on his back for a piggyback. Seung Gil's eyes remained closed, his chin resting on Phichit's shoulder.

"It's going to be alright. Everything's going to be alright."

Phitchit admitted that he worded it aloud to keep his mind from overthinking and panicking than to Seung Gil whom he was convicted was unconscious. And yet, Phitchit could have sworn that he felt Seung Gil's arms tighten around him in a form of a muted thanks.


End file.
